


Heart: filled. Bills: paid. Crops: watered.

by SineadRivka



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Puppy Acquisition, Allura and Lance get drunk, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Bartender Keith (Voltron), Bartender Matt (Voltron), F/M, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Heith - Freeform, Hunk and Keith are queer disasters change my mind, If You Squint - Freeform, Like, M/M, Other, Pansexual Hunk (Voltron), Pidge isn't far behind, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Professor Hunk (Voltron), Professor Shiro (Voltron), Rich AF Hunk, Sugardaddy!Hunk, allurance, everyone is over 18, platonic shidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-06-11 15:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19542148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: Hunk didn’t expect to see the same stranger twice in one day.He also didn’t expect to fall in love with someone within twenty four hours.And now, he can't help but want to make Keith's life a little more comfortable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _**Author’s Note:** I only blame myself for this self-indulgent thing. And my friends for not focusing me back on other things I should be writing, like the next chapter of my Transformers monster-child or the next chapter of "galaxy beneath us."_
> 
> _Be gentle with me. Been a rough week and I just wanted to post something. Here there be typos._

Hunk didn’t expect to see the same stranger twice in one day.

He also didn’t expect to fall in love with someone within twenty four hours.

The engineer and CEO of his own quietly-exploding tech company couldn’t ignore the man with the piercing purple gaze. Some idiot had pulled a DUI, ran a red light, hit a curb, and landed his car _on top of_ Hunk’s parked yellow 2014 Toyota FJ Cruiser across the intersection. Hunk was still calculating the physics when the tow company showed up, hands in Hawaiian-print shorts as he fiddled with his flipflop strap between his toes. He couldn’t forget the attitude of the thin man who swung out from behind the driver’s seat to whistle at the state of the vehicles, or the piercing dark gaze that took in the scene. “Where’s the dumb fuck who was driving the Challenger?”

“Hospital,” one of the cops replies, his partner continuing to take photos and finish up the report. “Mostly for observation and sobering up enough to be read his rights and charged. Hi, Antok. New guy?”

Antok shook his head with a grunt, sizing up how to best remove the white Challenger from on top of the SUV. He began to pull out stabilizers and whistled to the younger guy who was circling the wreck with an appraiser’s gaze and his phone out to take some photos of the damage that could be seen. Antok signed something as soon as he was in line of sight again, and Hunk’s attention was caught as the guy nodded and hit a speed dial number.

“Hey, boss. Antok says that we need to get a crane out here. Yeah, I know the asshole who called us said it was still on the ground, but I think that they were talking about the fucking SUV. Some motherfucking gob of cold cum tried to make their Challenger fly. It’s currently on top of the FJ Cruiser. . . . Yeah, you heard that right, and I’ve uploaded photos to the company drive so you can see what we’re facing here. . . . Yeah. . . . Exactly, see what I mean? . . . Okay, we’ll stabilize it while we wait for you to get here.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket and sighed. “Mother _fucker_.”

The cop looked a little flustered at being ignored, but the young towtruck operator simply shook his head and pulled out his safety gear, including an eye-blinding _rainbow_ safety harness in all High-Vis shades. Antok pulled out an orange one and began to start pulling out metal stabilizing poles. He looked to Hunk and indicated the FJ Cruiser. Sighing, Hunk nodded. “Yeah, that’s mine. Didn’t know someone had failed to stick a landing on my car until I saw the lights during a recess for a meeting.”

“The fuck were you doing with this old gas-guzzler? Hell, these were discontinued for a reason, dude.” The rainbow-wearing truck operator had a hardhat on and was easily hauling the second heavy pole without seeming to have too much of a problem. A dark scowl still furrowed his brows.

Hunk couldn’t help but laugh, not even taking offense. “Yeah, but this was the first vehicle I paid off, though.”

“Yeah, but _why_?”

Antok whistled, glaring at the young man and making a clear gesture to stop the attitude. But the dude himself didn’t seem to give a shit. Hunk was enraptured with the intensity of the driver’s hatred for a particular SUV, and so he simply shrugged. “If it was a shitstain sedan, I still would be proud of owning it. But I guess that a shitstain sedan would rank above this in your opinion. Which might not be wrong, considering my sweet Yellow’s untimely end.” Hunk grinned broadly, entirely happy to have someone willing to spar with him. It’d been a while since someone outside of his influence had treated him like the normal dude he used to be.

That startled a barked laugh out of the young man, and Antok blinked in shock before moving to secure the second post. Keith pulled a glove off and held it out to Hunk. “I’m Keith.”

“Hunk.”

“Dude, I’m not here to flirt with you.”

Hunk blushed and facepalmed. “No, that’s my name. Sorry. Hunk Garrett.”

Keith blinked twice then made a face as if he had completely misread the situation. “Oh. Cool.” And without a word, he went back to make sure that the car wasn’t going to slip or move too much when the crane arrived. Antok walked over to hold out his phone, a quick message typed up: _Keith is awkward because you keep surprising him. He don’t do well with unpredictability._

“Naw, that’s cool,” Hunk replied quietly with a grin.

And when Kolivan had shown up with a tall woman who Keith called “mom,” Hunk realized that it was an actual family business. They worked seamlessly together to get the Challenger onto the flatbed tow truck, then hooked up the FJ Cruiser to tow behind the truck. Keith walked up and opened his mouth, but a frantic call from the other end of the parking lot distracted everyone.

“Mr. Garrett! Mr. Garrett, they want to discuss terms!”

Keith blinked at the respectful tone and the way that Hunk blinked and sighed, waving to show he heard his assistant. “Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting them to even be interested. Score one for the marketing team.” He looked back to Keith. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“I, uh, guess you don’t need a ride back to the shop with your vehicle?”

Hunk smiled and shook his head. “Naw, but thank you. My associate drove separately, and he’ll give me a ride over after the insurance assessment and shit is done.”

Nodding, Keith turned and walked away, waving. “We’ll call when they give us more info.”

“Might be hard do to without my number.”

Keith’s mom laughed and slapped her thigh before grinning and swinging up into the passenger seat of the crane truck, pausing once settled to give Hunk a thumb’s up. Antok was silently laughing, giving Hunk a thumb’s up. He could tell that very few people got the better of Keith, and he waited until the young man turned around, pulled his phone out and waited expectantly. Rattling off the numbers, Hunk held his hand out. “Thank you for coming out to pick up the remains of my baby.”

Shaking his hand, frown turning curious instead of angry, Keith replied, “Yeah. I mean, it’s kinda my job.”

They parted ways, and Hunk walked back inside to Lance’s keen gaze and upraised fist ready for a bump. Hunk obliged him, and his publicist and best friend said, “Congrats on a successful flirt, boss man. And on getting this deal.”

Hunk blushed and shook his head, his casual wear a complete contrast against Lance’s perfect suit. It was something that they had originally used as a tactic to test how various firms reacted to the idea of unconventional thinking. Lance would be greeted as the charismatic mastermind and young philanthropic-but-secretive billionaire, and Hunk would be treated like the bumbling assistant on their first day of the job.

And then Lance would smile sweetly and introduce his boss, Harold Garrett, double PhD.

Most companies were _pissed_ at this tactic because Hunk would start calling them out on their bullshit. But he was the one with all the copyrights, and they were the tech giants who wanted his device and name attached to theirs. Galra Tech was hilarious because Lotor Sincline had stood gobsmacked as Hunk very cordially tore his father’s CFO up one side and down the other for racist remarks. Once the man stormed out of the talk, the supermodel-gorgeous younger man held his hand out to Hunk and whispered, “That. Was perfection to watch. Thank you for your time, Mr. Garrett; I would love to say that we would be back in touch with you. Considering that I am not yet able to make company decisions and Mr. Sendak may already be in my father’s office, I doubt that we would be able to make you an offer at this time.”

He and Lotor became good friends in the time since, never talking shop because they both had trade secrets to keep. But Lotor _had_ subtly indicated once that Altea University Tech might be looking for someone with his talents as a professor.

That had brought him to this point, where that “foot in the door as professor” had turned into “Altea University would like to buy some usage rights for your patents for upcoming experimentation and prototype works, Mr. Garrett.”

Once those first agreements were signed, Hunk had paid off his FJ Cruiser and began carefully saving and investing. That was three years ago now and he was set. With this recent agreement, Hunk had just broken into the Fortune 30 Under 30 candidates list. Lance started pulling together a celebration for their closest friends first, then paused halfway through the call. Hunk was driving the company car that Lance essentially had on permanent loan, with Lance making plans in the passenger seat. “Bro, Shiro says that he has an in with a 20s-themed speakeasy.”

Hunk’s breath left him in a rush. “Oh my god, yes.”

Holding a finger up, Lance listened for another long moment then added, “And tonight’s theme is Steampunk. I’m dressing you _up_! Take a left here; we’re going _shopping_.”

Laughing, Hunk followed the instructions. He never had a complaint when it came to Lance acting as his stylist.

~*~

Keith knew it was too early for their doors to open, but he had always been the kind of person to get his stations set up earlier than strictly necessary. He had come to the understanding that Coran would always allow VIPs in early, but didn’t always have a list for the VIPs themselves.

That Shiro wanted to come to one of their popup bars made him wonder what kind of shenanigans he was getting up to.

It had better not be Shiro trying to set him up again.

The cackle of a particular gremlin had his hands moving automatically to start Pidge’s drink, Shiro’s rumble underpinning his partner’s voice. It was the _strangest_ thing to see Shiro and Pidge together, especially after Shiro’s messy divorce with Adam. Keith knew that they were platonic partners, and it worked for them, and he was happy for them. He just didn’t know how to really categorize how this worked because Shiro was gay, and Pidge was lesbian, they got pretty snuggly for each not being into the other’s gender.

Matt sighed, putting Shiro’s usual down on the bar as Coran’s bright voice was heard coming closer with their guests. They’d have to walk around a temporary wall to get to the seating area from the entrance, made to make the space feel smaller, more intimate. “Mourn with me; we have to watch our siblings be gross all night.”

Keith snickered, then turned to check his reflection in the bar mirror. Hair pulled back in a low ponytail, goggles right above his bangs, a hint of eyeliner and some gentle cosmetics to bring out the character of a Lower City Brat that was fighting his way out of the gutters . . . And the tight brown pinstripe “pants” (they were mostly spandex leggings with pockets) tucked into his heeled Victorian-inspiread boots that came up to his knees. His crème button-down was open just one extra button low to show off a hint of collarbones and pecs. A vest that he didn’t dare close to show off his trick mixing skills topped off his outfit. He looked like he was going to _bank_ tonight, and Matt knew it.

It’s why they shared tips, but never let the patrons know. Some nights everyone wanted Matt. Tonight just wasn’t going to be Matt’s night.

He heard the squeak of a shoe turning, Coran’s signature announcement move to “make a scene” for the VIPs, and Keith saw Matt strike a lean against the counter before the first people walked in. And he waited until the last person to arrive to turn and place Pidge’s drink on the bar, unerringly centered upon a logoed napkin. “Pidge.”

“Wow, and here I thought Shiro was exaggerating at your ability to be professional,” she whistled, walking up to the bar and putting a bill down. “I’m buying the big man’s drinks tonight.”

Keith just had to prove her wrong. “Oh? After you buy yourself this one? Chivalrous of you, featherduster.”

The arsenic-green boa floofed up at the bounce of Pidge’s shoulder in a snorted laugh and Keith checked her bill before holding it up to her. “Where do you want this?”

“Till. I’ll tip after I find out how many drinks you’re making us. Shiro! Matt made you something!” And Pidge didn’t hear a sassy comment from Keith. Frowning, she turned, saw his shocked expression, looked back at the group and blinked her outrageous falsies twice. “Hunk, d’you know Keith?”

“He, uh, towed Yellow,” Hunk replied, a blush dancing across his cheeks.

And Keith was absolutely unsure how this man could go from _fucking Hawaiian print shorts and a fucking oversized shortsleeve button-down and fucking sandals all the way to sleek Victorian lords of the gods?!_

Shiro spat his drink out.

Keith realized he said that out loud.

Lance was squeaking with laughter, the tall pretty lady that Keith realized was the Altea heiress trying to hide her smile holding him up.

“Oh my God, but you were _just looking in a mirror_!”

Keith’s face flushed and he didn’t know what the fuck to say but—

Pidge’s jaw dropped. “ _How_ the _fuck_ did you get that smooth?”

Matt rang a bell before anyone else could let this get any further out of hand. “We have just under half an hour before we accept folks at the door; would all my queer disasters better fucking belly up and order, please?”

Keith ended up with Hunk at the very end of his side by his prep station, and they both blushed. Clearing his throat, the bartender asked, “So, uh, how do you know Shiro?”

“I’m a professor and researcher at Altea U for applied mathematics and computer engineering. So when I started, I became friends with Pidge, because Lance apparently knows everyone and introduced us. Then she introduced me to Shiro.” Hunk fiddled with a coaster. “I’m sorry if I make you feel awkward.”

“What? No.” Keith paused and stared directly at Hunk, who was too startled to look away. “I just don’t know how to socialize because apparently I was raised by wolves, _right Shiro_?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!”

“Dude, you’re about as subtle as a brick on a trampoline,” Lance retorted through a laugh.

“Anyway.” Turning his back and lowering his voice to just above the level of the music, Keith cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to do when I’m attracted to someone. It’s rare for me, and usually only after a long friendship. So, uh, I’m really the one sorry for making you feel awkward?”

A tanned hand almost reached out, and the aborted motion was enough to make Keith look up and make eye contact with Hunk. Biting his generous lower lip, he released it with a sigh and also modulated his volume. “I’m . . . I’m honestly really interested. Can I take you out for dinner sometime this week?”

“Did you forget the part where your car got totaled today?”

“I wouldn’t have driven up in _that_ anyway. Not for a date. Yellow was used partially as a prop for fucking with corporate execs.”

Keith blinked at that, grinning suddenly at the sly strategy. “So you have two cars, okay. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Don’t let him downplay this,” Lance cut in, avoiding Pidge’s swatting hands and Allura’s attempt to cover his mouth with her gloved hands. “He’s got about eight! I lost count after car number six.”

Head snapping around, Keith saw Hunk drop his head and hunch his shoulders. “Four of them are company cars, though!”

“And the other four?” Keith asked, setting Allura’s glass down in front of her.

“Two antiques that I’m restoring, a hybrid SUV for camping trips and whenever I want to just roadtrip for a while, and a—” his voice trailed off in a mutter and the blush intensified.

Keith leaned in. “No, see, now I’m invested. I’m a mechanic. You have cars. And that many cars indicates _money_. Money can be spent on _very expensive vehicles that I might want to see_. What is the last car, Hunk?”

“I have a 2017 Audi R8 Spyder.” Hunk ducked his head with a blush. “In the same shade of yellow.”

Keith’s eyebrow popped. “And your restoration projects?”

This had Hunk perking up. “An old-ass Porche 911 that I’ll be keeping and will be painting in her old racing colors and a Pontiac GTO that I’ll be selling to make room for another project when I find one.” He grinned at the sigh that Keith released, then looked down at the napkin he was fiddling with. Flirting was awkward and hard. “So you work both here and as a tow truck driver?”

Nodding, Keith shrugged. “I didn’t finish college, ended up having to have too many issues with an educational system and my learning style. It pays the bills.”

“So you do mechanic work?”

“Well, so do _you_ , so it’s not like you’ll need someone to take a look at your cars . . . unless you want him to show what _else_ you’re packing under those hoods,” Lance teased. He then blinked, facepalmed and sighed. “Please don’t fire me.”

Hunk was snickering and Keith simply gave Lance a bored look of exasperation.

But then Shiro called over, “Are we going back to your place after, Hunk?”

“Sure. I’ll schedule an Uber or two when we get closer.” He smiled and blinked at the drink that Keith set down in front of him, sweetly confused. “But I haven’t ordered anything yet.”

“Pidge is paying for it. House special. And since you’re not driving, I made it with a bit of a kick.”

“I said I’d be paying for Shiro!” Pidge protested.

“No,” Keith said with a grin, turning expertly and stalking closer in his heels. “You said that you were paying for the big man’s drinks.” He rested the heels of his hands on the bar and leaned closer, the move all masculine but the pop of his hips dragged Hunk’s gaze along the curve of that back and _dat ass_. “Shiro isn’t the biggest man at my bar right now. I’ll just go add Hunk’s drink to your tab, hm?”

“I’m paying for his next one!” Allura crowed, leaning over the bar to wave her card to start her own tab. “We’re here to celebrate the new contract he got today.”

And as Hunk fought his blush down, he sipped at the handcrafted cocktail, pleasantly surprised at how delicious it was. But watching Keith walk away, he tore his gaze away from that perfect ass and inadvertently locked gazes with Shiro. Who was smirking, raising his glass and tapped his phone. Pulling his own out and taking another sip to brace himself, Hunk saw he had a few texts from Shiro.

_Just because he’s my little step-brother when doesn’t mean that he’s off-limits. I’m not setting you two up because suck at it, so step up and woo him._

Then a follow up text.

_Can he come with us to your place? He’ll want to live in your garage and workshop._

And a third text.

_Okay, so amended rule. Don’t eyefuck my little bro where I can see it. You haven’t yet, but I’m laying this rule down early._

Hunk snorted, sipping his drink and fired off a return text.

_**No eyefucking where you can see it.** _

He waited until Shiro was distracted, then hit “send” for the second message and put his phone down, raising his empty glass to Allura and Pidge’s happy cheer.

Shiro coughed into his drink, put it down, and glared at Hunk, who grinned back unashamedly.

_**We’ll just have to see who is going to be fucking whom, anyway.** _

~*~

Taking their time to migrate around the room, Hunk’s friends all ribbed him for how hard he was falling for Keith. It wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve the teasing, after all; he had been a massive pain in the ass to Lance about Allura being out of his league. His Best Man speech at their wedding ended the entire thing by turning to the bride and saying that he wasn’t sure how she had managed to snag a man so far beyond her _own_ league was beyond him.

And around every turn, Keith found another high-number bill slipped into his tip jar. He didn’t know if it was by chance or if someone was intentionally tipping him. By the fourth turn, Keith made sure to look up into the mirror as they passed, not missing the timing of a shaker-flip catch. And Hunk’s flushed face and the bitten lower lip said it all before he clearly shook himself and stepped aside another patron. Keith finished making the drink and by the time he turned back, another fifty was being eyeballed by a patron he mentally cut off. Pulling the tips, he emptied them into “his” lockbox under the bar and then put “his” mug back out again. 

What was Hunk trying to do?

At that point, Matt came close enough to share the two others that he had tagged to cut off, and he heard of Keith’s one, not having caught it like Keith had. But his grin was bright and he leaned in closer to say, “Let’s each keep the tips we’ve earned.”

“That’s not fair, though,” Keith protested, knowing that Matt really had made a pittance against what was going into Keith’s mug. “We split tips, it’s what we agreed to do.”

“Yeah, but I know who’s dropping those big bills, and I think that he wants _you_ to be the recipient of them, not me.”

Keith’s eyes widened slowly. “It is Hunk.”

“Sure is. He’s smitten.”

“He’s a professor, though. How does he have this much money?” Keith literally didn’t get it. “Did he sell . . . wait, Lance said he has company cars.” Pausing to really tun this over in his head, Keith sighed and looked over at the group, catching Hunk’s eyes only to make both of them blush. Bowing his head with a smile, he murmured, “I think that I’d like to learn more about him.”

Matt grinned, hooking an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Good, because you’re coming over to his place tonight for the afterparty. They’re here because Hunk made a major deal today that made him a very, _very_ rich man. He teaches because he has the spare time to do so and loves teaching.”

Keith sighed.

“Oh, and be aware . . . Hunk drunk-cooks masterpieces.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith had been expecting something classy and slick with modern architectural lines.

Instead, he gaped up at what could be called a mansion by virtue of just being the _biggest_ homely structure he’d seen. The “front yard” was expansive and mostly some form of “cultivated wild,” and the driveway rambled through it. Following the Uber with his drunk new (and old) friends, Keith could hardly stand how gorgeous it was. And it was still full dark out!

Keith had almost wished that he had brought a spare helmet. Almost. He knew that Coran has been wanting to ride bitch for a while, so not bringing the helmet has also indicated that he wasn’t looking to cart around a passenger. But holy hell, he wanted Hunk’s large, _warm_ hands holding onto him. He’d very rarely felt this attracted to someone, but the sheer diversity of character that Hunk showed from the tow all the way through a delightful stage of Drunken Truthfulness . . .

The Uber stopped at what could almost be called a modest walkway to the front, uh, deck? Courtyard? It was two in the fucking morning; Keith would figure out what the hell it was later. As soon as Hunk was out of the car, he waved goodbye as the driver and turned to Keith. “Hey! Wanna see my garage?” He paused, giggled at himself, then amended, “You can park your bike there.”

Keith saw his chance. “Sure. Wanna hop on?”

Lance and Allura were now the sweetest and drunkest cheerleaders anyone could have asked for, so they were both whistling and cheering rude things while Hunk just started to blush harder and shuffle closer. “Or you could hop on me,” he muttered when he was close enough, suddenly too bashful for it to be anything other than the truth.

Keith grinned and murmured back, “Mind the pipe.”

And then he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep the bike’s path straight when he felt those large, warm arms wrap around him and the bike dip as Hunk got on. The motion was _familiar_ to Hunk, automatically careful not to let anything touch the exhaust pipe. Buying time, he turned his head slightly and asked, “Which way?”

And Hunk pointed around the left of the house. The garage must be behind everything to keep any part of the almost-public-viewable visage from being unsightly. Curb value. Kicking off in first gear, he tested the balance before gaining a little more speed to keep them steadier. Someone said that they would order food if they weren’t back within ten minutes. Someone added not to come back until they were satisfied, but the last thing that Keith was going to do was fuck a drunk dude. No matter how attractive they were.

And then he turned the corner and slowed to a stop, breath escaping him.

_Racetrack_.

A racetrack that was lit just enough for security’s sake, not enough to do more than cast dim shadows along the wide dri-

“Holy fuck, what kind of track is this.”

“Mechanical engineer and applied physics mathematician, so it’s got several paths to test different strain tolerances and can be run both clockwise and counter-clockwise,” Hunk half-slurred, thumbs rubbing restlessly against Keith’s leathers. He grinned. “Come use the track anytime. I’ll let my staff know to expect you.”

“Wait, you have _staff_?”

“Four company cars, remember? Lance only uses one because he’s my personal assistant, thesis proofreader, product tester, stylist—”

“I’ll have to thank him for dressing you tonight,” Keith interrupted with a smile, starting the bike forward and bypassing the track for now. He’d prefer to walk it in the morning, learn it by day, and then run it a few times on his bike.

“I’ll have to thank _you_ for dressing you. Especially those heels. Are they a bitch to drive the bike with? Is that why you took them off? You look amazing, either way.”

Keith snorted. “I prefer footwear that will protect me. But holy shit, dude. You sure about the track?”

“I might also beg you to test out some prototype vehicles. You really are good at driving something with less than four wheels.” Hunk pointed towards something that could better be described as a “hangar,” hugging Keith closer with his other arm. “That’s it! That’s my garage. You will _love_ the Porsche.”

_I’d love anything you’re passionate about._ But Keith was trying to not fall in love with Hunk. He had a _lot_ of money sitting in his pocket from the tips that Hunk had been leaving all night, and he didn’t want to think that this was anything more than a one-time thing. He didn’t want his emotions swayed by the fact that he’d be able to make most of his bills this month. As they drove closer, Hunk pulled out a keyfob and waved it at a sensor when they passed it.

And the gates to Paradise opened.

Keith smoothly pulled into the garage, parking next to where a few trikes and a couple bikes were also parked, more than one with parts disassembled but ordered with careful exactness. Hunk slid off of Keith’s bike with a smile. “Hondas make good bikes. CB1100? What year?”

“2013,” Keith replied, turning the engine off and releasing the kickstand in one fluid motion. He stood and pulled his gloves off, eyes not sure whether to follow Hunk’s movements, or start taking in a mechanic’s pipe dream.

Hunk smiled at the bike, or was it Keith? Either way, he smiled and indicated the entire garage. “I can walk you through here tomorrow when my brain is less fuzzy and my kitchen isn’t calling me?”

Smiling, Keith nodded shyly. “I’d like that.”

Hunk blew out a deep breath. “Pheeww, okay, cool. Because I really feel like a dumb teenager around you, and while I don’t want to sit here and try to just impress you, I just—”

A hand slid into his own, and Keith leaned closer. “You impressed me this morning when you didn’t back down about your love for your deceased beast. If you let me play with your race track and snoop around your garage a little, that’d be amazing.”

Hunk was trying _so hard_ not to give into his drunk brain, but it was clearly not allowing his inhibitions to return. So he could only watch in horror from behind his drunken self as he said, “I’d let you play with anything in this garage.”

Smiling slyly, stone-sober Keith leaned in a little and whispered, “Tell me that again when you’re sober to see what happens.”

“Oooohhh _God_ ,” Hunk wheezed. “Okay. Should sober up, then, huh?”

“Speaking of gods, I heard you’re a god of drunken cooking. I’m not above being won over by a good meal.”

~*~

The next morning had Hunk glad that someone had been sober enough last night to lay out remedies on side tables around the living room. He was in his undershirt and boxers, grateful that this was the _most_ he’d stripped down to. There was a pile of mixed clothes in the corner, and the Cards Against Humanity cards were strewn nearby, and a fuzzy memory of watching Shiro just lose spectacularly and sit with Pidge’s feather boa and a deep blush to hide his assets.

Hunk started to try to move, but paused when he found a weight along his legs pinning him to the couch. Looking down, he was relieved to see that it was Pidge, who would sleep through him sliding out. She wore one of Shiro’s old shirts that went to her knees over some leggings. Shiro himself was snoring away on an air mattress (thankfully with sleep pants on), with Lance spooned up behind him and Allura spooned up behind her husband.

Something had woke him, but he wasn’t sure what it was until a noise from the kitchen repeated itself. Sighing with relief, he got up, grabbed the water bottle and single-dose packet of aspirin, and walked out to see Matt and Keith staring at the breakfast currently being prepared by one of Lance’s many relatives. Hunk made no bones about the fact that he firmly adhered to nepotism. There were many people in his and Lance’s life that were in need of a solid job. He had the money, why not employ them and help them attain their own career goals?

His parents had taken it a little hard at first that he could support their entire family better than they could, but he didn’t know how _not_ to help his family and friends out. He was _happily_ putting his little sister through community college to get all her prereqs out of the way. She lived rent-free (but not utility-free) in one of the three guest-cottages that were tucked off to one side on his property, and had a job to cover her living costs. He continued to deny her desire to have a private entrance closer to the cottages because of the additional security he would have to install and maintain. They already had three emergency exits from the property; they didn’t need a second secured entrance.

As for Hunk’s parents, they were currently on a long-overdue anniversary getaway for two weeks in Samoa and two in Hawaii, where one set of grandparents still lived on Oahu. And while they were off doing that, Hunk was renovating their home as a surprise for when they returned.

Keith looked up and blushed through a good-morning greeting. Hunk replied it, and sat at the kitchen island on Keith’s side, since Matt had clearly decided to bring texts to review to breakfast, sipping his coffee occasionally while writing notes in margins of a “proof copy” of a science textbook. A coffee was set in front of him almost immediately and he smiled up. “Thank you.”

Marta grinned, an exact copy of Lance’s own expression, and replied, “This is in case this morning’s experiment goes poorly.”

“Psh. You haven’t fed me wrong once yet,” Hunk replied through a half-laugh. “Did you beat me to my dirty dishes again?”

“You pay me too much.”

“That’s a yes,” Matt replied absently, tapping the eraser of a mechanic pencil in a staccato beat. He gave up with a guttural and expressive noise of disgust and shoved the work into a pile and off to one side. “She’s a machine. I must study her.”

With a barked laugh, Marta brandished the spatula in his direction. “You only _wish_ you were on a level remotely close enough to be granted a snippet of my time. I’m valuable; Hunk pays me enough to say that.”

Keith huffed a laugh. “They’re related all right.”

Hunk began sucking coffee down to buffer the pain killer. He’d have to get through some grading today, and that meant that he had to be a little more functional than a sloth. “You two do this every time. Could we _not_ today?”

“Grouchy.”

“Matt, I’ll wake your sister and sic her on you. She loves me more than you.”

“I see how it is. I’m going to go get my grading work because nothing says ‘breakfast’ like wanting to slam your face against a granite countertop in frustration.”

“Get Shiro’s, too,” Hunk and Keith chorused, then stared at each other in shock. They realized at the same time that they both knew the man well enough that seeing the pile of grading with a cup of coffee would make for great entertainment. Matt sighed and left the room in search of Shiro’s work bag. 

Keith snorted a laugh, uncurling enough from over his phone to smile at the interaction. “So be honest. You kept slipping me some big bills last night. Why?”

“You work two jobs-”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but like, I’m wildly overpaid for both and my monthly expenses only sorta make a dent if I splurge on something.”

“Or someone. You gave Lance the wedding he deserved.” Marta set down filled plates for Matt and Keith. “And Mimi loves you for it.” She paused to smile indulgently at Keith. “Boy has an appetite.”

Keith paused mid-shovel, swallowed, sat straighter and looked like he was about to fire off a snarly response when Hunk smoothly interjected curiously, “Were you just my runner last night or did you sneak some food?”

“Um. I snuck a lot of food. I have an insane metabolism.”

“And you live off of ramen, poptarts, and fruit snacks,” Shiro grumbled. He kissed the back of Marta’s hand after she passed him his morning coffee made just the way he liked it and endured the light smack to his head in retaliation.

Hunk gasped.

Shiro continued. “He thinks that a good home-cooked meal is Hamburger Helper.” Sipped his coffee, not even fazed at Keith’s glare. “The last time I saw him do more than boil eggs, he took out the stove hood.” Glancing up at Hunk and grinning at the horror on his face, Shiro nailed the coffin shut. “Keith runs on the fumes of energy drinks and poor life choices.”

“I can make your death look like an accident,” the young man growled.

Shiro sipped his coffee, smug. “I stopped setting you up on dates. I never said I wasn’t going to encourage people who you met on your own to help us take care of you.”

Pidge started snickering from where she remained plastered to the couch.

~*~

Shiro and Matt were grading in the den, and most of everyone else had gone home. But Hunk had been too restless to grade with his friends and co-conspirators, what with the den having a full view of the racing track. Pidge was working on one of the trikes that _should_ change shape as the driver turned, but the response times were too slow. It was distracting to watch Keith take a lap, pause, explain something, take a few more laps, pause, let Pidge do something, do more laps . . .

“You’re useless in here, Garrett,” Matt finally groaned. “Get out there and tell Pidge that we’re leaving in half an hour. And go chat Keith up.”

Within ten minutes, Keith was walking the trike over with Pidge to the garage, talking animatedly about the response time and speed, eyes bright and grin broad. And Hunk stood there with a soft smile on his face and a crazy desire to help keep that sweet happiness on Keith’s face.

Oh, he was _so_ boned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fluffy creature is taking over my mind. If anyone has any tags that I've missed, please let me know. I haven't yet updated the tags with the two new chapters I've written and posted.

It was just the two of them, now. And Hunk was suddenly unsure of anything that he could possibly say to see if Keith was really interested, or if he was appeasing a friend’s drunk buddy. But they were standing in Hunk’s “garage” and he _didn’t know what to say._

“Can I just ask you something? And not be judged?”

OhthankGodKeithsaidsomethingfirst. “Yeah, of course.”

Keith’s head was firmly held high, but there was a hard light in his gaze that worried Hunk. “Were the high tips because you pitied me?”

The engineer honestly stared in shock for a solid few seconds before he shook his head. “Okay, can I not be judged for my response?”

That light didn’t fade. It got _sharper_ and Hunk regretted asking only a little bit. But Keith’s voice was steady. “Yeah.”

“Short answer: no. Long answer: it’s because you’re smart, you’ve got a casual brattiness that I’m clearly into and didn’t know it, you’re gorgeous, and-and . . . and I know that you’re struggling. And you shouldn’t _have_ to. I wanted to make it a little easier on you, give you some extra cash to maybe go shopping and get yourself something nice or something extra.”

Keith’s face was dusted with a blush, but the last line drew a sobbed laugh from him. “Oh, dude, you don’t even _know_. With your tips, I can catch up with last month’s bills and have just made a good dent with this month’s.”

The embarrassment morphed instantly into serious concern and Hunk couldn’t filter his whispered words. “Baby, just tell me how much you need.” And then his brain caught up with his mouth and he slapped his hands up over it and groaned in wordless frustration, eyes pressing shut to avoid looking at his crush.

Laughter, soft, honest laughter, caught up to his ears. And he dared a glance up at Keith. The blush had deepened, creeping down his neck, but he didn’t look freaked out. Finally, having caught his breath, Keith took a half-step closer, eyes a little demure. “Is that the game?”

Hunk didn’t move his hands away from his mouth, effectively muffling his voice. “It’s . . . it wouldn’t be a game. I . . . I need to do _so much research_ on this, because oh my god, I am absolutely flying blind.”

Keith barked another soft laugh. “Yeah, I need to brush up on my own research. But.” He looked up at Hunk, now close enough to brush his hands up along Hunk’s forearms. He bit his lip at feeling the dense muscles there, and blinked up at Hunk when he got those large hands to envelope his own. “But I am absolutely interested in you. And if, uh, if you want to, I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

Laughing softly at how awkward they both were, Hunk whispered, “You wouldn’t mind being my sugar baby?”

“Oh god, it’s so _bad_!”

“I know! It’s like it’s that really awful joke that Lance keeps telling just to fuck with people.”

“No, no, you don’t get to start that.” Keith grinned at the broken moment. “But to be honest? I would love to be your sugar baby.” He let the grin gentle itself into a smile. “I’ve heard about you for a while from Shiro about you as a person, how you’re always taking care of people. He just never described what you looked like or gave me your last name, so I wasn’t expecting someone who punched all my ‘yes, please’ buttons to show up on a fucking tow call.”

Hunk sighed, the conversations with Shiro leading up to this point making a lot more sense, now. “You know. He’s been talking about you to me, too.”

“Think he legit set this all up?”

“He’s got a brilliant strategic mind when he wants to play it that way.” Hunk nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past him. I want revenge. But like, _surprise_ revenge.”

“I’m so very much into that idea. And you.”

“Yeah?” Leaning down a bit, the broad man smiled, carefully squeezing Keith’s hands. “I’m very much into you, too.”

“We should negotiate.”

“Can I kiss you first?”

“Yeah. Making out is okay. But . . . nothing kinky?”

“Nothing kinky,” Hunk agreed in a whisper, his nose brushing Keith’s. “Just two people, really attracted to each other.”

“Oh my god, I wanted to have my spare helmet with me after I saw you last night,” Keith whispered harshly. “ _Just_ so you could put those fucking _arms_ around me.”

He was enveloped almost immediately, and his mouth crashed against Hunk’s with a desperate whine. His hands went up to the shaggy hair, fisting convulsively and dragging a moan into his own mouth from Hunk’s chest. He felt Hunk’s grip shift, and he whimpered, realizing that he was _getting picked up_. Breaking for air, he gasped, “Oh my god.”

“You like that, b-Keith?” He caught himself, grinned, and met Keith’s grin of approval at his catch. “I will happily carry you anywhere.”

A thought broke across Keith’s mind, and just like that, the mood was gone. Hunk caught on by his expression, gently lowering him, but keeping one hand in his own. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“I won’t be a kept secret.”

That sentence was worrying. Hunk drew in a breath, nodded, and released it slowly to stall himself from a perceived hurt against Keith. “You wouldn’t be.”

“You’re a rising star in a lot of ways, and you are getting these insane deals, you’re rich as fuck and have a fuck-ton of influence. Are you even _out_?”

“Yes.” Hunk grinned. “Yes, I’m out. I’m also all of those things. I’m pansexual. The professors are all doing this video for graduation in honor of Pride Month this year about the various sexualities that we represent to show to current and prospective students. I haven’t made it a secret, but I also haven’t made a press release about it. This is probably going to get me some good and bad attention.”

“Are you going to be safe coming out fully like that?”

“Yes.”

“Financially?”

“Yes. For a _long_ time to come.”

“And I won’t be some secret.”

“Never. Keith, did . . . someone use you like that?”

His face closed off, but his grip tightened. “Yeah. Once. A long time ago. I thought I was over it.”

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, and it’s okay if you’re not over something that hurt you.” Hunk tugged him in for a hug, tucking his head under his chin and wrapping sturdy arms around the slight frame. He . . . could feel Keith’s spine in places. This man probably didn’t eat much more than what could barely sustain him, if the hundreds that Hunk had dropped on him last night would only _make a dent_. “I have this insane drive to care for everyone around me. And I don’t wanna smother you . . .”

“I think I could use being smothered a little.”

“Okay. Let’s go inside, then, and I’ll make up some lunch and . . . let’s talk some more, yeah?”

“And maybe more kissing?”

“Kissing, yes. But we haven’t been on a date yet, and I would love to be a little romantic about things.”

“Even if you’re going to be my sugar daddy and I can be a bit of a sugar brat?”

Laughing, Hunk kissed Keith’s forehead. “Yep. And if you want to keep that part of our relationship quiet, we can be just boyfriends in public. It’s no secret that I spoil as many people as I can, and it’s been speculated by some folks that I’d be _that_ boyfriend with sending all the gifts and flowers.”

“Are you that boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Getting spoiled by you sounds like it’d be a good time, then.”

“I hope that it would be.”

While Hunk waited for a skillet meal to simmer for a few minutes, Keith pulled out his phone. He wasn’t on-call for the tow company until Sunday, with no guarantee that he’d get any calls, and he wasn’t needed at any of the other odd jobs that he had started to pull up. Hunk covered the screen with his hand when he caught a glance at some of the names. “What’s the most that they’d pay you for today?”

“Fifty.”

“Okay. You were testing Number Two for how long with Pidge?”

“Three hours, I think?”

“We’ll say three. I pay my test drivers a hundred an hour. You’ve now got three hundred more in your pocket for helping work out some of the tilt bugs with Pidge.” Hunk released the phone and turned back to the stove. “How does that now stack towards this month’s bills?”

“Uh.” Keith stared in shock for a long moment. “Just short of even.”

“I’m gonna need your help after lunch, too.” Hunk settled the bowl of curry down in front of Keith and sat with his own bowl. “Okay. Real talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you uncomfortable with me throwing money at you?”

“No, mostly in shock. I . . . kinda put myself into this position, and now I’m suddenly not going to be in the hole for next month.” Keith sighed. “I started going to college, but dropped out. I don’t even know what I’d want to go back to school for, and all my jobs are shitty and don’t provide insurance.”

Hunk sighed, hating that the country wasn’t single-payer for insurance for people who fell through the cracks. “Okay, I have an idea. Do you want this to work more like an employee situation with me? Because you not having insurance isn’t going to slide, and the only way I can get you insured is if I employ you or marry you, and while I’m smitten, I don’t think that a shotgun wedding would fly well.”

The bartender blinked and frowned down at the table, thinking about the option. “Maybe? Like at first? I’m not going to lie, I want to _work_ to be rewarded. I don’t want to be rewarded for being lazy.” Keith sighed. “I don’t really know _what_ I want.”

“We can figure that out together as we go, if you’d like,” Hunk murmured, leaning in to brush a shy kiss along Keith’s cheek. “But I offered the ‘employee’ route because you _need_ insurance, and if you’re not healthy, you’re not going to be at your best. And my testers have to be at peak performance to ”

Keith smiled and nodded. “Okay. Um. What’s my job description?”

“Brat in Chief.”

“Oh my god.”

“Naw,” Hunk laughed. “No, Lance and I think of something that’ll look good on a resume, but let’s have you think about what kind of responsibilities you’d expect to fulfill as a product tester for now. I’ll have you fill out forms before you go and give you a list of the benefits and shit that I provide to folks. If you want your job to be more or less of anything, let me know and we can work with that.”

“And if I want you to spoil me unexpectedly?”

“If it means you smile like you did when you were walking the bike back in, I will find a way to give you the moon herself.”

Keith didn’t know what he was going to do with himself or with his sudden suitor, but he liked where it was going. So he filled out the forms, sent a text off to Shiro with a veiled threat, and headed home. Grabbing his mail on the way up, he blinked when he stepped on the paper just inside his door. And his stomach sank to his knees.

Eviction.


	4. Chapter 4

Hunk sauntered into his shared office, feeling like he was that Danny Glover reaction gif of walking into a room on fire with pizzas in hand. “Woah, _woah_ , everyone, _what the hell_?!”

The silence that met his voice was just as shocking as the ruckus had been. Shiro moved to one side, revealing Keith still looking like he was about to punch his brother out, eyes suspiciously shiny and mouth open in either a pant or a cut-off word. “Keith got an eviction notice, and he’s not letting us help him.”

“Keith is a big boy and can make his own choices,” Hunk replied, thumbing over his shoulder. “You have class in ten, Shiro.”

“Fuck. Fine. _You_ handle this.”

Hunk grabbed Shiro’s bicep on the way by, and spun his friend around, using his bulk to literally stop the man’s forward motion. His voice dropped to a soft growl. “Hey. I respect you, got it? But you _don’t_ get to order me around, Takashi. If your brother wants help, _he_ can ask for it like a fucking adult. You forcing him to choose _your help_ over _his plan_ for figuring out _his_ situation isn’t gonna make either of you love each other more.”

“Woah,” Keith breathed, eyebrows hidden up behind his fringe. “Uh. That about said it right there, Shiro.”

Even Shiro’s eyes were wide with shock. He wasn’t used to Hunk confronting much of anyone, though he’d heard it from Lance that when he _did_ , it was downright terrifying. And he nodded slowly, both to Hunk and to acknowledge to Lance’s raised eyebrow that he was going to take a hard listen to what his friends were saying. “Okay. Yeah. Fuck, you’re right. Okay. I’m going to go do my class. Keith . . . I’m sorry.”

“Same for getting mad. Sorry.”

Once everything settled, what with Lance and Pidge still glaring after the door that had shut after Shiro, Hunk turned to Keith. “Did you come here for him or someone else?”

“You, actually. Can we talk alone?”

“Yeah. Pidge, are you playing TA today or are you harassing someone else?”

“It me,” she replied, thumbing towards her bag. “I’m covering your office hours; you’ll find out why. You’re off at noon, I’ll drop by your place at the usual time to catch you up.”

“I’ll take your word for it, thank you. Lance, do you have anything for me?”

“Nope. I’m going to get us Starbucks, though. Mullet, you still drink coffee like a heathen?”

“You mean black and scalding?”

“Like your soul.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

Lance flipped a card between his fingers with a wink. “We talk shop over coffee, company expense, Hunk writes it off his taxes, everyone is happy. Bye!” He dragged Pidge out, and Hunk waved before guiding Keith into his area off to one side. 

Melting into the old, comfortable loveseat tucked halfway behind a privacy screen that had seen better years, Keith wheezed in aggravation. “I love Shiro, but I _will_ murder him if he’s going to keep doing this shit.”

“I think he might have had some sense shocked into his overprotective brain,” Hunk murmured, pausing to drop a kiss to Keith’s forehead as he passed him on the way to sit on his desk. “So. You came to see me, and Shiro decided to go right into fix-it mode about how to get you to move back in with him.”

“And Pidge lost her shit at _him_ , which is the scariest thing.”

“Oh. Well, that makes a fuck ton of sense, since they’re planning on moving in together.” Hunk paled. “Oh, that is _not_ a conversation I want to be anywhere near when it happens.”

“I . . . I came to get help from you because I know you won’t judge me,” Keith said in a rush, unable to make eye contact with the admission.

Huffing a soft laugh, Hunk slid off the desk to sit beside Keith. “I won’t judge you. I have to be here until noon, then I don’t have any more classes today, and then we can talk more in private. But I kinda want to collaborate with Lance, since he’s got his hand on everything that I do.”

“He’s your corporate brain, oh my god,” Keith whispered in awe. “So _that’s_ why he was so stoked to be getting the business degree and all the various certs he’s been chattering about.”

Nodding, Hunk smiled. “He’s everything _but_ my financial advisor or any of my lawyers. So while I can keep a mental inventory of all of my projects without stuttering, he’s the one who helps organize the whole damn thing.”

“Damn.”

“Which means that he’ll also know what’s going on around the city, and can pull together some housing options if you want his help. But I want to know what _you_ want before I start trying to offer options or solutions that would be poorly matched to your circumstances.”

Sagging with a deep sigh, Keith stared at his hands again. “I have until the end of the week to get my shit and get out.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to live with my family, because that’s still awkward for me. I don’t want to live with anyone in general, because I like my privacy. I . . . I have some mental stuff that—”

Bumping his shoulder “You don’t need to justify it. You need a sanctuary, a haven away from the chaos of trying to just live your life.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. What else do you need in a place to live? Parking for the bike, but do you have a car?”

“No. My shitbox died in February.”

“ _February?!_ It’s the _fucking Northeast_! You need a car for shitty weather days and for winter. Leave that to me, just don’t complain about what I get you.”

“You . . . don’t have to.”

Hunk smiled and leaned in. “No, I don’t _have_ to. But . . . I _want_ to spoil you, baby.”

Keith’s face lit up in a blush and he smiled softly. “Okay.”

“You two are already disgusting. I approve. Caffeine!” Lance handed out the coffees, sitting in a calculated lounge in a desk chair that made him the envy of many. “Okay. So. Any thoughts on what you’d like to do so far, Keith?”

“Live on my own?”

“Any idea _where_? Hunk can afford a _lot_ of places. Want a mountain chateau in Stowe?”

Hunk was about to chastise Lance for teasing, but caught himself in time because he always forgot that these two knew each other. Lance knew Keith’s limits better than Hunk did. And Keith almost coughed a laugh into his coffee. “Oh my God, dude, I was _nineteen_.” He grinned up at Hunk. “We can talk candidly in front of Lance; he’s seen me un-caffeinated at more than one eight-am class.”

“Keith has filters after coffee. Before coffee, not so much.” He sighed gustily, sipping at his cup and blinked twice at Hunk. “Business question. Is Keith coming on as an employee?”

“Yeah? And I’ll be dealing with the insurance shit is this afternoon. Why?”

Lance grinned. “I think I have just the place that will work and the right job title.” He turned to Keith. “But _you_ will hate this.”

“I swear to God, Lance—”

“You’re going to have to come with us to meetings.”

Keith blinked, stared at Lance, then glanced to Hunk. “Can you translate?”

Hunk’s face was lit up in a grin. “The _one_ thing that neither of us are good with is product demonstration. Keith, you were making Number Two _dance_ when you came over. It would mean playing nice with corporate execs from time to time . . .”

“I’m really not good with that, but I’ll try.”

“You’re good enough to play it off as absent arrogance,” Lance interrupted, eyes narrowing with a shrewd understanding of how his friend operated. “Play a bit of the bartender persona, a bit of the ‘I live on a bike’ and a hint of ‘I’m just here to drive shit not talk to you,’ and I think that you’d fit in perfectly with our marketing strategy.” His voice dropped and he leaned forward, all showmanship gone. This was just _Lance_ , Hunk’s brother, the sweetheart that charmed Allura, and a perfect genius when it came to public relations. “It’s gonna be fucking uncomfortable to get ready for this role. It means that I’m going to be in your business a lot leading up to the meetings, including choosing some of the wardrobe options or replying for you at first until you’re on autopilot.”

“I can live with that.”

“There was a time when you _couldn’t_ handle either of those things, so do you blame me for checking in with you about this?”

“No.”

“Okay. So. We’ll work on the job stuff tonight, Hunk?”

“Yeah, you got a plan?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna take Keith clothes shopping while you’re stuck here, we’re gonna figure out what his housing needs are, and I’ll send you the check for the shopping spree while you find him a new car.” He smiled at Keith, who was starting to warm back up after the brouhaha that had been Shiro’s attempt to fix things. “But if you have to leave your apartment by Saturday, we need to find you somewhere to stay before I haul you out of here. We’ll need somewhere to send everything we get you.”

After a long moment, Keith sighed and looked down again. “I don’t know where I want to stay. I just . . . want privacy. It’s hard to do in a college city.”

Hunk bit his lip, trying not to blurt out an option, but it finally got the better of him. “Okay, so like, I have a handful of guest cottages that I had built, they’re little more than a studio apartment, but they have a bedroom separate from the living area, and literally are used for either when family or someone is over that wants some privacy away from the main house. You could . . . um . . . live in one of those ones? If you’d like?”

Lance blinked at his watch. “Took you longer than I anticipated to offer that, my man. That was almost a full half hour. I’m impressed.”

Keith did indeed snort into his coffee this time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Author’s Note:** Thank you for your patience while I’ve worked on this final chapter! This is really rough, and I may one day return to this universe, but I feel like the story I was looking to tell was told._

Keith was investigating the cottage, making small noises of appreciation whenever he found something that he liked about the construction. An idea was starting to form in Hunk’s head, as he watched the slim man investigate almost every inch, careful not to pry into areas that might be private. Hunk stayed by the door of the furnished guest house, leaning against the wall. “This one wouldn’t be yours; this is my parents’ when they come to visit, so Lance, Bella, and I decorated it like their home. It’s a little outdated in my opinion, but they adore it.”

“Bella?”

“My sister. She’s been pretty damn busy with her own work and school recently, but you’ll probably end up meeting her soon. She tends to take over one of the dens with her friends at least twice a month.” Hunk hummed a note. “Would you like to see the one that I think that you’d like the most?”

“You have more than three of these?”

“Uh, I have five? This and my sister’s are the only two that have furnishings so that I could show you what it would look like with stuff in it.” He looked a little bashful.

Keith’s smile was warm, welcoming. “I’d love to see it.”

Hunk was right. Keith was smitten with the small cottage. It was hidden behind the garage down a stone path, hidden behind some of the “wild” vegetation. A clever landscaping trick deadened the sound of Pidge hauling ass around the track in something like the unholy child of a go-kart and a luge with the horsepower of a supercar. But it was literally twenty feet to where his bike was currently parked beside the Porsche to the simple front door. He couldn’t see any of the buildings through the windows, and the bedroom itself had a patio door. Hunk even had made sure to extend the roof over the doorways to protect anyone coming and going from rain or snow.

Keith whispered, “No way,” and hauled open the door to dash over the flagstones and start circling the covered parking area and the vehicle parked underneath the shelter.

Hunk grinned broadly, following Keith at a more leisurely pace, hands in his pockets. He soon found himself held captive with Keith’s hands gripping his shirt, though, as soon as he was close enough that another pass brought the slight man closer to Hunk. “This isn’t mine . . . is it? _Did you buy this while I was shopping with Lance?!_ We were only out for three hours!”

“It sure is yours, baby,” Hunk murmured, smiling. The local dealership had been shocked that he had walked in, pointed to the truck and then asked for a list of upgrades to be scheduled for once he bought it. “Do you like it? I spent a half-hour haggling for it and we got some upgrades on it already, and it’ll have to go back in for a remote starter, an upgrade to the camera system, and a few other things next week.”

Keith’s face blossomed with a flush at the nickname, grinning broadly despite it all. “Uh, _yes_ , I love it! Why a pickup, though?”

Hunk smoothed his hands down Keith’s arms, enjoying the feel of toned muscles, and he just couldn’t _wait_ to see how Keith filled out. “Well, two reasons. One, you’re a mechanic, and you’re also someone who seems pretty active, so I wanted to make sure that you had enough space for packing up anything if you wanna go camping. It also has to be able to tow the trailer for the prototypes. And I wanted to get something that could get dinged up and still look badass.”

Keith’s gaze narrowed, but with a hint of mischief. “This is still too perfect.”

“Blame Shiro; he’s been awfully smug when he’s not harassing you to move back in with him.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Want to rub his nose in it?”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. You got this truck because it’s bigger and better than _his_. You’re literally shoving it into his face that you can provide for me with my own needs in mind.”

“I, uh.” Hunk blushed, suddenly shy again, but willing to try to push through it. “Sort of? But . . . I just want to show you off, too? Like, you can handle any vehicle I throw at you.”

“You haven’t tested that.” But Keith’s grin was broad.

Hunk caught onto his man’s excitement. “Oh, _shit_ , I can’t wait to see you just murder my expectations.” He caught himself and the grin gentled. “But you haven’t said. Do you want to live here?”

Keith swaggered over, hips swaying in a hypnotic figure-eight that captivated Hunk’s gaze. Those damning hands took his own, and he dragged his eyes up to meet Keith’s. The Korean-American man dragged him into a searing kiss, breaking only to press foreheads and noses together, panting. “It’s super fast.”

“You still pay for your utilities and I’m not asking you to move in with me officially?”

“We haven’t even met each other’s parents yet.”

“Mine will love you. But I’m pretty sure I met your mom?”

“Uh, there’s baggage there? I only met her when I was fifteen and had been fostered with the Shiroganes for eight years by then. Long story. They wanted to adopt me but . . .”

“Long story.”

“Yeah.”

“No rush. If you wanna tell it sometime, just lemme know and we can talk.” Hunk smiled and leaned down to rub his nose against Keith’s. “So you want this? To live here? To let me take care of you? To be my boyfriend”

“Yeah, I want it. I want all of that, but mostly, I want all of _you_ , big man.” Keith laughed, loving that even as confident as Hunk was, this was something that he was super, super anxious about. He . . . he really _liked_ Keith. More than just like him, but he wanted to be able to give him a safe place to stay. He was vetted by their group of friends, he was a family man, he was rich, he was humble, he was _brilliant_ , and those strong arms looked like they could help Keith forget that he was flying apart at the seams on his bad days.

Now the one blushing, Hunk pulled out two sets of keys from his pocket, handed one to Keith, and held up the other one, holding up one key at a time. “Truck. Trailer locks. Wheel locks for most cars in case you need to change a tire. Your cottage. Garage. Maintenance sheds. Main house front door, main house back door. You need anything, you let me know, okay? I have a third set secured in case either of these two get lost.” He placed the spare set in Keith’s hand as well.

“Can I move in today?”

“You just survived Lance hauling you around for clothing. Think you can handle furniture shopping today, too?”

Keith winced. “I . . . no. But I don’t want to go back to my apartment and just end shit there. I mean, my dog . . .” Keith paled. “I have a dog. Is that a problem?”

He shouldn’t have worried. Hunk was melting at the prospect of having a dog on his property, and started planning for a dog run and an enclosed area where Kosmo could have off-leash time literally after wheezing his undying love and devotion for both owner and pet. Keith fell in love all over again with his boyfriend’s excitement.

Hunk pulled his phone out, indicating that Keith get behind the wheel. “Lance, rally the crew; we got us a quest. Tell folks to wear sturdy clothes and meet us at Keith’s place. We’re gonna move him in and worry about furniture later.” Once he got the affirmative, he hung up and looked to a smirking Keith. “What?”

“You didn’t tell him about my dog.”

“Look, I’m not about to ruin what’s going to be a hilarious moment for everyone. I love Lance, but he’s also an absolute menace and we’ve got a long-standing tradition of pranking and pulling tricks on each other.”

Four hours later, Keith not only had everything moved, but Pidge and Lance had even pulled together a cohesive _look_ for his living space from pieces of furniture pilfered from Hunk’s house. They made a pact that the furniture would eventually return there once Keith allowed them to take him shopping. He was a little overwhelmed at all the support, and Hunk made space for him to go and sit at the track to play fetch with Kosmo while they finished moving him in. Shiro looked ready to cry at the easy way that Hunk had maneuvered Keith away from “I do what I want with my own hands because nobody knows how I like things.” Hunk focusing him back down on Kosmo’s needs with a soft kiss and the promise that if it’s _not_ perfect, at the very least it’ll be less for Keith to reorganize later.

“I think he’s getting a little antsy, but it’s been a while since I’ve had a dog,” Hunk said, his hand resting on Kosmo’s head. The big lug (probably half-wolf) was panting, eyes a little wide with excitement. “Does he need a run?”

Keith looked down at Kosmo, who went into full slammy-whammy play mode, complete with happy whimpers. “Oh. Oh, you _had_ to say that word. Next time, _you_ play fetch with him. This is literally going to be a half hour of him running himself out.” He grabbed the Chuck-It and a few spare tennis balls and paused. “Uh. Is this whole property fenced in?”

“Yep, and alarmed and under CCTV.” Pidge grinned broadly. “That’s my specialty. Nobody is using the track right now, so if you wanna use that area to play fetch with the fuzzbutt . . .”

Keith really shouldn’t have been worried about his dog and lover getting along. Within five minutes of meeting Kosmo, Hunk and the furface were best friends and it got worse after Keith had moved into his cottage. Keith was still getting used to Hunk making breakfast and waking him up the next morning with a tray at the cottage door. He was even _more_ impressed when he saw that there was a fresh-made meal for Kosmo, with human-grade food. There Keith stood, in sleep pants and messy hair and very little else . . .

“Can I come in?”

Keith nodded and moved to one side. Hunk set up breakfast and then held up Kosmo’s food for Keith to inspect. “Yes?”

“He was gonna get kibble, but I think that I may need to really reconsider that now that you’re spoiling _both_ myself and my dog with nutrition.”

“I know, how dare I,” Hunk laughed. He didn’t even mention the locked and deadbolted door, just put the tray on a counter and began to unload the human food onto the table. “Does he feed after you or at the same time?”

“I never really eat in the morning?” Keith admitted. “I, uh . . . it . . .”

“It doesn’t matter about _then_ ,” Hunk said firmly, pausing to take Keith’s hands in his. “Are you hungry _now_? Or should we just use that toaster for the moment?”

Keith blinked, tears coming unbidden to his eyes. “How are you this good? You could have just let yourself in!”

Hunk’s smile was soft, painful. “Because I know what it’s like to go hungry, to feel unsafe, to not have _enough_ and still be wanting. Because I love you, and I _know_ that it’s fast, but . . . you feel like you’ve always been in my life. I want you to know that first and foremost, your safety and your happiness and your wellbeing is important to me. If your door is locked, I will _never_ unlock it unless I have reason to fear for your life.” Hunk paused, then asked softly, “ _Do_ I have reason to fear that?”

Keith shook his head. “No. I’m tired, I’m desperate for change, but I . . . I want to see things get better. I . . . I need to see a therapist.”

“You’re not my only ‘employee’ who needs to see one, and _I_ still see one on a monthly basis right now.” Hunk waited for a moment for a confirmation about his statements.

And Keith drew in a breath. “I love you, too. Thank you for understanding. I . . . never thought that you’d been through hell, yourself.”

“Homelessness and poverty changes a person.” Hunk smiled and murmured, “That’s why I do my best to help the people I can. Only if they let me, though.”

“You can hold your hand out, but it’s up to the other person to grab it and pull themselves up.”

“Exactly.”

“Except for me?”

Hunk laughed, swinging Keith up into his arms princess-style and walked over to the kitchen table, setting Keith down in front of a still-steaming plate with a kiss to his temple. “Sweetheart, the only difference is that I’m holding _both_ hands out for you, and you have all the permission in the world to hold them or let them hold you.”

~*~

They ended up at the garage two days later to show off the truck to one of Keith’s cousins, Regris. The kid was still working on lawnmower and snowblower engines between taking calls at the front desk, so he had a few moments to spare. It was an abnormally slow day, and Marmora Towing was enjoying it to the fullest, complete with bantering and the clanging of metal in at least three languages, spoken and signed. So, Keith took advantage of the matter, since chaos was the perfect environment for testing people.

Keith now judged people by how they responded to his crazy birth family and his dog, who spent most of his days hanging out as Shop Dog. Kosmo _adored_ Hunk and was happy to bounce between Keith and Hunk while they were at the garage to wait for some calls, since Keith was scheduled to work and the Marmora family were crawling over the truck. Hunk had brought his work on a tablet computer, fingers never pausing in writing more of a paper he was composing for a tech journal. So even while Hunk was curled over his keyboard, his voice joined in on the banter and teasing, adding in another few languages to the mix. He’d had no few of the cousins pausing in shock to process what in _hell_ Keith had invited into their sanctuary. Very few people could keep up with them, and seeing a _newcomer_ do that? While remaining respectful to Kolivan, Thace, and Krolia even when he was poking back at them?

When Antok arrived, Hunk signed a greeting to the large man, who promptly barked his odd laugh and signed back. Within a few minutes, they resorted to typing up their conversation due to Hunk’s low vocabulary. Kolivan walked over to his husband for a kiss, signing something lazily enough that even Keith had trouble with the half-formed words. But Antok simply nodded, whistling the unique dip-and-loop that was Keith’s name, and gestured to have Hunk follow as well.

“We going on a call?”

“Nope. Kolivan wants our input on a custom that’s giving us all some trouble. The owner isn’t pressuring us for a deadline, because we’re not sure what might be going on. So Uncle Kol thought you might have some ideas. If you’re comfortable, that is?”

“I get to play? God, I missed working in a garage. Yeah. Show me what’s going on.”

It was less than fifteen minutes later that Hunk had figured the problem out, thirty to fix it with only Keith’s assistance.

Antok signed furiously to Kolivan, who looked chagrined, but reached for his phone anyway to call their client to come and pick up his now-perfectly-working supercar.

~*~

The first month living on Hunk’s dime passed without much fanfare. The first major bump ended up in laughter due to Keith rushing in with a tattered box that squirmed and yelped with more than one young voice. Hunk had been out late the night before at a business function with Lotor (that Keith had begged not to go to because he wasn’t ready to look like arm candy yet and he was surprised that he _did_ want to look like arm candy) and was standing hungover and almost bare-assed in the kitchen.

Almost, because he was still wearing a yellow and black thong and the pinkest, frilliest apron known to humankind.

Keith nearly dropped the puppies with the most surprised turned-on moan he’d ever uttered in his entire life.

Hunk nearly burned himself in shock when he turned to see Keith struggle to not let one of the pups yeet itself out of the box.

With a beat of silence, they broke into laughter, Hunk removing breakfast from the heat to keep from burning it. 

They raised the litter of puppies, and the first time that they introduced their all-brown pup Whitey, they nearly died laughing. (Whitey from YT from Yellow Thong . . . Hunk still gigglesnorts over that one.) Shiro and Pidge ended up with Bowser, who was _actually_ all white, and Lance and Allura ended up with Maleficent (Millie), the only female of the group who was patches of brown and white.

After the third month, Keith knocked timidly on Hunk’s home office door, blushing when the engineer put aside everything he was working on and beckoned Keith closer, walking around his desk. “Hey.”

“Hey. I, uh . . . want to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“I want to go back to school. I . . . I just don’t want to waste money learning things I won’t use.” He bit his lip, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Can you help me figure out a few things?”

Hunk smiled and asked, “You want to work with your hands?”

“Yeah. But I also want to get back into photography.”

“Your cityscapes still murder me and I’m _serious_ that I want you to talk to Coran about getting your work in galleries or just _printed_ and hanging on some of the walls I see every day.” Hunk smiled and pulled out a pamphlet he’d been saving since that first day he’d seen Keith eyeballing the construction of each cottage. He handed it over and watched as Keith’s brow furrowed.

Finally, Keith shook his head, not in denial, but in disbelief. “This . . . this is to one of the most expensive schools in the state for art and architecture. I don’t even know what I’m doing with _carpentry_.”

“Well, we can figure out if you like carpentry next month when we start building sets for the drama club’s annual production. And if you showed interest in the kind of engineering that I do, I’d have discounted rates for you at my university, but there’s no need for that. You deserve the best education; I can pay for it without flinching. If this isn’t what you _want_ to do, tell me what you _do_ want, or what schools you _do_ want to go to.” Moving closer to envelop Keith in his arms, Hunk murmured, “I want you to be happy, and to feel fulfilled in whatever you choose to do.”

Keith nodded, smiling, and he rested his head against Hunk’s soft chest. “I think I’ll just . . . can I just recover a bit? Lean on you a little more while I figure out what I want?”

“You mean that you’re going to let me take care of you for real?” Hunk murmured, arms secure around Keith’s waist and a smile pressing against night-dark hair. Kosmo whined and pressed against their legs, Whitey gnawing on a toy across the office.

“Yeah.” His voice was soft, timid, but trusting.

Hunk kissed Keith’s forehead and curled his boyfriend closer. “Good. Because I can’t wait to spoil you.”

**Author's Note:**

> _**Author’s Note:** I wanted this to be a one-shot. I can’t write them. This might be three chapters long. Maybe. I hope. I really, really hope._
> 
> _Goji, put the offerings to all the gods and muses back where they belong on the proper altars; I refuse to start another longfic._


End file.
